


Fire Boy

by Pigeonsplotinsecrecy



Series: Lone Star Past [2]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Character Study, Depression, Gen, Self-Harm, TK's past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy/pseuds/Pigeonsplotinsecrecy
Summary: T.K. grew up loving fire more than was healthy.
Series: Lone Star Past [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117163
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Fire Boy

T.K. had always been obsessed with flames, but he wasn’t sure if they were appealing or terrifying. When he saw his first fire, a bonfire at his grandparents’ house, delight and horror battled in his young mind. The fire warmed his skin, making the chill in his bones go away, but the sparks jumped out at him when he pushed his fingers too close. He’d pull his hand back, pulling it back into the dark coolness of night. He’d been so fascinated with the orange tongues that he’d cried when the fire had been put out. He felt an instant chill, even though it was summer and nearly eighty degrees. In the dark, with nothing to light the backyard, T.K. felt hollow. He shivered, tear streaks feeling itchy. The adults had all laughed as they tried to comfort him. His mom had pulled him closer to her, telling him that he’d see another fire soon. His dad beamed, the crinkles by his eyes vanishing as he let out a big chuckle, which always made T.K. feel comforted. That was the first day his dad announced, “I think my boy’s going to be a firefighter,” and the thought of being a firefighter had been distraction enough that T.K. forgot his grief for just a little while. He and fire were connected. He didn’t know how exactly, but they were. He wasn’t sure if they were friends, but he didn’t think they were enemies either.

When 9/11 happened, T.K. realized the destructive power of fire. It’s not that he didn’t know that fire could do bad things before. He’d heard his dad talk about work before as he listened in the late-night hours when his parents talked in hush tones in their rooms. The walls were thin, and if T.K. tried, he could hear what they were saying. So, he knew that fire was bad. It was something that he had to be careful around, or else it would hurt him, but fire had never impacted him in such a personal way until 9/11, when his whole life, and the lives of pretty much everyone in New York City, caught flame. They went from being an ordinary family to one walking on eggshells. Just one comment could spark hours of tension and unhappiness. Fires love oxygen, and the more the fire burned in T.K.’s house, the less air there was for T.K. His young life was full of third-degree burns just below the skin, leaving him sensitive and scarred. But he survived. His dad survived. Their family didn’t, but the fire hadn’t taken everything. There were charred reminders of what they used to be and so much to rebuild.

The first time T.K. used fire to against himself was when he lit his first cigarette at fourteen. He hadn’t wanted to do it, but his best friend, Micky, told him not to be a pussy, and T.K. had sucked it up and held out his cigarette so that Micky could light it with a Bic lighter he’d stolen from the corner store. T.K. inhaled and felt like he was choking, and Micky was laughing like a maniac as T.K. coughed. He felt sick, but he didn’t say no when Micky offered him a cigarette the next time. For whatever reason, he never really got addicted to cigarettes, but he’d light them up, and something about the flame hitting the cigarette was soothing. He hated the smell of smoke, but it was worth that millisecond of peace that he had when he first lit the cigarette.

At sixteen, T.K. took control of fire. He took a Bic lighter that he stole from his ex-best friend, and pressed the flame against the spoon. He waited for the entirety of 3OH!3’s new song, watching the flame flicker against the spoon. He pressed the spoon to his arm, letting it burn until a white blister appeared on his forearm. He liked the sting that came afterward, the way that the burn lingered, reminding him of what he had done. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. He moved from burning his arms to his legs, where people were less likely to look. He even bought a special lighter for his self-destruction, a Zippo lighter with a silvery shell and cartoon flames on it.

His second high school boyfriend, Luther, a senior who called himself emo and wore all black, was the first to notice the burns. He’d pulled down T.K.’s pants, saw the scars and fresh burns, raised his eyebrows, and gave a little laugh. “Isn’t cutting on-trend anymore?” T.K.’s cheeks heated, and he felt like a freak. “You’re too much of a Ken doll to be punk.”

“It’s not like that,” He said, wanting to roll off the bed and disappear into a crack in the sidewalks outside his apartment.

“Whatever, man, I don’t really care.” Then, they had sex and T.K. felt shitty about it, but he liked the way the friction made the burns on his upper thighs sting like he’d just held the spoon against his skin.

T.K. was on fire, burning from the outside in, and the blisters and purple scars were all he had to show for it, but an achy physical manifestation of how he felt was better than none at all.

At seventeen and a half, he started getting everything ready so that he could join the FDNY as soon as he was old enough. He knew that there was nothing else in the cards for him. He and fire would always be friends as much as they were enemies. He knew fire did awful things, but he still felt like it was a kindred spirit. They were both wild and vibrant and hurt anything that got too close to them. They were volatile and they were fun until they got out of control, untamable and too consumed to care about who they hurt as they raged on. Fire might be the thing that finally destroys him, but he wouldn’t mind that being the case. He’d burn eventually— passion, self-destruction, fear, or maybe even joy. He’d keep burning until the day he died until he turned into ashes and was put in the Earth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I've been a bit blocked on my stories, so I just wanted to write something to get my creativity going. Feel free to leave a comment. My tumblr is lonestarbabe.


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